The Nu Mantia which is Liberté
by Dark Knight Gafgar
Summary: When Louise Francoise le Blanc de la Valliere took part in the Springtime Familiar Summoning ritual, she expected something majestic. A noble, magnificent creature, like a griffin, or maybe a dragon! ...She got a Dremora instead. RATED M FOR A REASON.
1. Prologue - A Summons

**The Nu-Mantia which is Liberté**

**By: Dark Knight Gafgar**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing that is not mine, and everything that IS mine. Capiche?

* * *

**Prologue - A Summons**

* * *

The desert was wailing.

The slaves huddled in their simple stone huts, clustered at the base of the great tower and at the edges of the vents to Below that surrounded it, trembling in confusion and fear. All around them, filtering down from the spire and echoing up from the tunnels emanated the sounds of anguish. It was like a great haunting, the very world itself seeking to frighten and terrify, calling forth in the innumerable voices of the lost and the damned.

The two disciples trembled and held each other close beneath the dune at the northern outskirts of the makeshift city, whispering softly to each other in the language of their ancestors and trying to block out the noise around them. A young shaven-headed slave boy walked up to the two rag-clothed girls quietly, unafraid and curious.

"Sisters?" he asked in the tongue of the northern men, the language of all slaves, "Why is the wind crying?"

"It is not the wind, child." the reply came from on high.

The disciples and the boy lifted their gazes, looking up at the figure of the Eldest of their race, sitting upon the top of the dune. An unnatural breeze that none of the other three would likely never feel blew her long and untamed golden hair back and forth behind her head, streams of sand swirling around her like - or, rather, with - the channeling of the old magicks. She was barefoot, clad only in a simple hooded cloak pulled tightly about her body, a pair of long strips of ragged cloth acting as a makeshift belt and blindfold.

The Eldest's eyes had been blue once, it was said, before the Masters had taken them.

None knew her true name, for she had not spoken it since long before any of their current generation were born. It was whispered that even the Masters - who by their very natures were prone to knowing all that could be known - did not truly know it, and that indeed none who had ever known it yet lived.

"Is it the earth that cries, sister?" the boy asked.

"No, child, it is not the earth."

"What is it that cries then, sister?"

The Eldest stared sightlessly up at the spires above them.

"It is the 'Masters', child." she said after a long moment, smiling. It was not a pleasant smile, and the disciples edged away from their teacher, though the boy merely looked on, still curious. "The Masters weep. It is a music I have not heard in a great many years, and I am glad that I now hear it once more. Yes, children," she 'looked' down at all three of them, "it is the sound of the Masters - mortal as any of us - in anguish that you hear now. Engrave it well within your memory. Why do the Masters do this, you would ask? I will answer:

"They weep from loss, young ones. They _grieve._ Their god has died, and they are in mourning."

Her words were even partly true.

* * *

In a dark, hellish land, two guards in armor the color of dried gore stood watch at the gate of an ominous fortress of iron and black stone. Tapping a foot impatiently and carressing the handle of a war axe on his hip, one guard turned toward the other and swore.

"This is boring as fuck."

The second guard made no response, continuing to stand quietly and grasping the hilt of his greatsword, thrust partway into the rocky ground before them. The first shifted restlessly from foot to foot, pauldrons rising and falling as he rotated his shoulders and clenched his hands into fists, muttering under his breath.

An infernal landscape surrounded them, with smoky, storming blood-red skies and rocky earth charred black with searing heat and fire. The mighty citadel they guarded rose up behind them, a massive and vaguely unsettling sprawl of walls and towers, all menacing with spikes, located atop a high peak rising from a lone island surrounded by a sea of fire. Below them lay a chaotic city sprawl, elaborate palaces of obsidian and gold sitting alongside crude stone huts, rough-hewn caves, and crumbling ancient ruins. Whole districts were aflame and ravaged by violence, blood flowing through the streets, the cries of the wounded and dying lifting up towards the two guards, who basked in it as if in ecstasy. The heat was stifling, and the air stank of brimstone, sulfur and ash that stung the eyes and scorched the throat.

Just another day in the Deadlands, realm of Mehrunes Dagon, the Prince of Destruction.

Azatot, Dracon, Dawnbringer and Caitiff of the Flesh Render clan, couldn't take it. It was a torture purer than any he had ever conceived alone in millenia of practice. His master - for now - was surely an artist when it came to agony. Standing high above, watching the war being fought below, safe and detached from it all...

And _utterly unable to take part_.

Honestly, Azatot would rather be back in the Forbidden Grotto - on the receiving end, even - than be stuck on guard duty like he was now.

"When I fought my way into the Dawnbringers I thought I'd be, you know, killing things. Shedding blood. Feasting on mortal souls. You know, _our job._ Not sitting around guarding the fucking palace!" Azatot turned and glared at his partner. "How the _fuck_ do you stand this? Three weeks since _'Father'_ Dagon declared Dawn Breaking again, and the only things I've gotten to kill since the trials are my _meals!_ I need something to murder and something to fuck, preferably at the same time! When are we going into action, dammit?!"

The other guard remained quiet, glancing briefly in Azatot's direction before returning his attention to the road before them. Azatot turned away with a snarl, a small cloud of steam spewing forth from the armored grille of the mouth of his helmet. "Fine, brood you little twat." he growled. "But, I mean, shit, _anything_ would be better than this! I'd even be fine with a fucking _summoning!_"

* * *

The sorceress stood in the middle of a great triangular - if one ignored that the 'corners' were rounded and bulged inwards - courtyard, surrounded on all sides by high walls and overlooked by three grand towers, all made of smooth, seamless stone. The courtyard was grassy and devoid of all obstructions save a few tables and chairs arranged near the doorways set in the eastern and northern walls, and towards the center of it sat a large, slightly raised circle of dirt, carefully arranged into a perfectly flat plane and engraved with runic sigils.

Waiting before this circle, the young mage girl wiped a lock of her long hair out of her face and ignored the low sniggering behind her, where stood a large crowd of caped young mages and a menagerie of various creatures, from such mundane beasts as dogs and cats to more fanciful fire salamanders and griffons, and even a great white-and-blue-scaled dragon that lay quietly beside its master, eyes open and attentive as it curiously watched the proceedings. A man in blue robes standing beside the pink-haired girl at the summoning circle glanced pointedly at the crowd of students, who quickly quieted, then turned back to his student with a smile.

"Go ahead, Miss Valliere."

The diminutive young woman nodded, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, then stepped into the summoning circle, raising her wand to incant.

"My name is Louise Francoise le Blanc de la Valliere. I call out to my servant - my glorious and powerful slave - who resides somewhere within this universe! Pentagon of the Five Elemental Powers, heed my summoning... and bring forth my familiar!"

* * *

There was a snap, the crackle of thunder, and then a pop and a sizzling noise as Azatot disappeared with an almost birdlike squawk and a flash of fiery orange light.

The second guard turned to silently regard the empty space where Azatot had stood a few moments prior, then turned back to his vigil, shrugging.

"...Serves ya right, ya bloody wanker."

* * *

Louise blinked her eyes open as a spark of bright light shot from the tip of her wand, circling about in the air as it floated first up, then slowly downwards, towards the center of the summoning circle.

That was new. But, compared to a random explosion, it was certainly not unwelcome. Knock on wood.

_'Oh Founder, please don't explode.'_ she thought at the spark feverishly, hand tightening around her wand and a single bead of sweat dripping from her brow. _'Please don't explode please don't explode please don't explode...'_

The spark ceased circling, floating down to about stomach height for an average adult man - or, in Louise's case, at roughly neck height - and igniting into an orb of fire that began to draw energy into itself with a low rumble.

_'Pleasedontexplode pleasedontexplode pleasedontexplode...'_

Two arcs of lightning spat briefly from the flame, scorching the ground below. The students gathered around the clearing began to back away - some had outright turned and begun running at full speed for the safety of the closest door - and even Professor Colbert had begun to edge closer to her, whispering what sounded like the incantation for a spell of warding, light from the fire glinting off his glasses.

Louise stood her ground, wand clenched tight in her hand. _'Pleasedontexplode PLEASEdontexplode PLEASEDONTEXPLODE-!'_

The fireball suddenly surged outwards, expanding - but not, as feared, into an explosion. Instead it erupted into a fiery star, orange-and-red flames surrounding a white-hot core, the fury of its birth fusing the ground below it into blackened glass. A wave of heat stung at Louise's eyes, and she lifted her arm up in front of her face for protection, her cape billowing backwards in the searing wind. Two trickles of moisture leaked from her squinted eyes, and Louise wasn't sure whether it was a reaction to the heat or to her apparent success - and she didn't particularly care, either.

_'I did it...'_ she thought, grinning despite the discomfort, _'I-I actually summoned something! It... it must be some sort of... fire elemental, or-'_

And then a large armored form flew out of the flaming globe directly towards her.

* * *

It took less than a second for Azatot to realize he wasn't in Nu-Mantia anymore. Though given the sudden, jerking transition from mountaintop palace gate guard duty to flying down a flaming, curse-screaming tunnel at full speed towards a bright light, realizing that one had been summoned from Oblivion wasn't exactly a difficult puzzle to solve. Azatot howled in anger, then sighed.

"Fuck. I suppose this serves me right."

As the light drew closer, he grinned, tongue running across his lips beneath his helmet. "Well then, let's see if I can't at least turn this towards my advantage..."

And then he reached the end of the tunnel, suddenly finding himself flying forward into the mortal world. Azatot grunted and slammed his feet downwards into the ground, digging a long furrow into the soft, grassy soil as he bled off speed. _'Different.'_ he thought, finally coming to a crouching, hunched-forward halt, his armor steaming at the sudden coolness in the warm summer air. _'That's not normally how you appear after a summoning.'_

And indeed it wasn't - by all rights every previous time he had been summoned to do the bidding of some scowling, generally-pudgy conjurer he'd merely landed lightly on his feet, as if from a fairly well-executed teleportation. Not fired through the air at full speed like a crossbow bolt.

_'Someone screwed up,'_ he thought with a snarl, rising to his feet, _'and I think I know who it was-'_

Pink.

Azatot blinked twice. Then again, tilting his gaze back down. There, fallen nearly flat on her back before him, lay a tiny little human girl in an obvious mage's cloak, a _delectably_ short black skirt, and a full head of long, silky hair that was such a bright shade of pink it made him want to claw someone else's eyes out.

Azatot stood slowly to his full height, staring incredulously down at the girl below him. Briefly he shifted his gaze up, staring around the clearing at the assembled open-mouthed human youths and wild assortment of creatures before him, then returned it to the pinkette at his feet, eyes narrowing.

Louise trembled as the creature turned its gaze back upon her.

It was a nightmare. A demonic terror, covered in spiky, asymmetrical armor the color of rotting flesh and dried blood, and smelling strongly of both. Patterns upon the armor suggested myriad strange shapes, and she wasn't sure whether or not the creature's chestplate bore a wailing human face or a series of mind-searing runes upon it - or both. Steam that smelled of sulfur billowed out from a grille in the creature's helmet, and its baleful glowing red eyes seemed to stare into the darkest depths of her soul.

"Mortal..." its voice rumbled, deep and echoing, "tell me: are _you_ my summoner?"

Louise stared up at the demon before her, and could only offer a trembling, halting nod in response.

The demon stared down at her for a long moment... and then slumped with a sigh.

_"Fuck."_


	2. Chapter 1 - Like a Kynaz Out of Hell

**The Nu-Mantia which is Liberté**

**By: Dark Knight Gafgar**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing that is not mine, and everything that IS mine. Capiche?

* * *

**Chapter 1 - Like a Kynaz Out of Hell**

* * *

Professor Jean-Baptiste Colbert tensed as the demonic figure towered over the youngest Valliere, quickly abandoning his partially-incanted ward spell and beginning to recite the spellwords for his fire magic.

_'A demon.'_ he thought incredulously, quietly edging sideways to put Louise out of his line attack. _''Zero' Louise summoned some kind a demon. There goes the myth of her being incapable of magic.'_

Behind his glasses, Colbert's eyes twinkled briefly with grim humor.

_'I suppose I really should've expected something... _special_ from one of _Karin's_ daughters...'_

* * *

Azatot sighed as he swept his gaze around the courtyard once more, idly noting the adult human to his flank trying to quietly circle around in front of him. _'The fuck is he doing, anyway?'_ Azatot wondered, shifting his head in the opposite direction while keeping his peripheral vision firmly locked on what appeared to be another mage, his daedric eyes watching closely as the mortal began to quietly incant. _'Is... is he starting to channel magicka for a _fire_ spell? What is he, an idiot? Bah!'_ he snorted, dismissing the foolish mortal as a threat immediately. _'Where am I, anyway?'_ he wondered, taking in the surrounding area in more detail.

He appeared to be in a large, grassy courtyard within some sort of walled fortress, with a large central tower surrounded by four - that he could see - smaller towers, each of which was connected to their neighboring towers and the large central tower by high walls. His mind built an image of the area as it would have appeared from a great height, and quickly made sense of the shape once he concluded the likely existence of a sixth tower out of his line of sight. Straight walls, the placements of the towers he _could_ see, and assuming the builders enjoyed symmetry as much as most mortals did...

It took little more than a second. _'A pentagon, then.'_ Azatot decided. _'Possibly a hexagon, but I'd put my bet on pentagon.'_ He glanced back at the mortals, who now appeared to have begun to get over their initial shock from his appearance and were speaking with one another in hushed tones. Now that he examined them in detail, he realized they were all fairly young, and not a single mer or beastfolk was in sight. All of them were human, wearing black mage's capes over what appeared to be some sort of uniform - white shirt and black pants for the men, a similar shirt and those wonderful, _amazing_ short skirts for the women. Azatot chuckled darkly as he caught sight of a tall, buxom redhead with dusky brown skin off to one side, resolving to have some _fun_ with her later if he had the time.

_'Bunch of apprentices I suppose.'_ he thought, nodding to himself in satisfaction. _'This doesn't look like the Arcane University, and I don't see White Gold Tower anywhere, so this can't be the College of Whispers. The Synod, then. So this must be High Rock. Shit, I haven't been _here_ since the Second Era!'_ Azatot grinned, licking his lips again in anticipation. _'They probably won't keep me here long, but maybe I can find a way to br-'_

"Um..."

Azatot blinked as the voice intruded on his thoughts, looking down at his summoner again, who "eep"ed and scuttled backwards a bit at the attention. _'Small one. Must be younger than the rest.'_ He then blinked once, looking down, and realized he was standing at the edge of a fixed summoning circle. He then remembered the creatures mixed in with the rest of the apprentices and laughed in realization, not noticing as the crowd of onlookers flinched at the sound. _'Ah! I get it now. Must be a beginner's lesson on Conjuration. About bloody time the Synod got over the taboo.'_ He glanced briefly at the other summons, snorting in contempt as he realized most of them were little more than vermin. _'No Mazken. Damn. Not even a scamp either. I guess it makes sense that they haven't been summoning daedra, though. The Vigilants are probably pissed that the Bretons are conjuring again as it is.'_ He looked at his summoner. _'I suppose this one's got guts, then. And good taste.'_ He then noticed her hair again and winced. _'...In some things, anyway. That color _can't_ be natural. ...Though I suppose I could always check...'_

"Who..." the mortal started, then paused, swallowing and wetting her lips. "Who are you?"

Azatot grinned, not that she would be able to see it through his helmet. "I am a servant of Lord Dagon, a Caitiff of the Kyn. Dracon of the Balic Cabals. Dawnbringer. Who can I kill for you today, mortal?"

The girl blinked, paling, as did most of the assembled crowd. "I-I didn't..."

"Oh?" he stepped forward, his summoner flinching at his approach. "I don't suppose you didn't summon me for... other reasons then, did you?" he moved his foot forward between her spread legs, catching the end of her skirt with his boot and lifting to reveal a glimpse of white-

The girl shot backwards with a sudden and surprising burst of speed, red-faced and sputtering as she held her skirt down with both hands. "N-n-n-n-n-n-no! NO! W-W-WHAT?! NO! H-how DARE...! NO!"

_'Pity.'_ Azatot shrugged. "Then what? Just showing off?" he frowned, then glared down at her. "You'd better not be planning on using me for target practice, mortal. If so, I will fucking _end you._"

The summoner stared at him, wide-eyed, jaw working up and down but no words emerging.

"L-Louise?!" a voice called, and the girl turned to regard the speaker, who Azatot realized with a grin was the _delicious_-looking redhead. _'Probably a Redguard, given the skin. Louise must be Pinky's name. Sounds Bretonian, no surprise there. Especially if she's skilled enough to summon daedra at her age.'_

"Louise, what in the name of the Founder is THAT?!"

"I-I don't know!"

_'What.'_ Azatot's eyes narrowed, his opinion of his summoner dropping dramatically. _'So the brat summoned a Kynaz without even knowing what we look li-'_ His eyes widened in realization as he quietly glanced at the rest of the crowd. _'...Except those other brats don't recognize me either. The old fuck seems to have an idea, though.'_ he thought, turning his gaze back towards the older human - probably their teacher - who was glaring at him over the top of his glasses. Azatot grinned back in response, though the action was hidden behind the mask of his helmet.

"Demon!"

Azatot twitched and turned toward the assembled crowd, noticing the blond female with the strange hairstyle - though he supposed compared to some Dunmer standards it was fairly tame - who was now cowering behind an equally blond male with his shirt half undone. _'And here I thought only tavern wenches did that.'_

"It's-it's a demon!" the girl repeated, seemingly emboldened a little as the crowd around her began to murmur its agreement. "Louise the Zero summoned a demon for a familiar!"

"Witchcraft!" came an anonymous cry from amongst the crowd. "Heresy!"

Azatot stared blankly at the crowd, which had rapidly gone from frozen in terror to a roiling mass of indignant and outraged shouting, most of it oriented towards the summoner at his feet. _''Demon'?'_ he wondered, incredulous. _'Fucking _seriously?_ Oh _wow,_ I haven't been called _that_ since those Alessian dicksquirts were still around!'_ He wondered if he should get some souvenirs to commemorate the occasion. The blond cunt's eyes, maybe? He could think of so many _wondrous_ things to do with her afterwards, especially with a good pair of empty eye sockets-

His pleasant train of thought was suddenly derailed, then, in a moment of dawning realization.

_'Wait, wait, wait._

_'Wait._

_''FAMILIAR'?!'_

* * *

Louise felt a cold tightness gripping her chest as she watched the crowd of her fellow students work itself up into a frenzy. Kirche and, strangely enough, Guiche both appeared to be trying to smooth things over for her, Kirche actually doing a fairly fine job at trying to shout down everyone else at once, but Montmorency's outburst had apparently galvanized the mob enough that mere words wouldn't be enough to sway them. Louise watched as three classmates broke away from the crowd, rushing towards the dorms with their familiars while shouting about writing "letters to the Pope himself!", and noticed in the corner of her eye how Professor Colbert, normally a fairly cheerful man, had suddenly donned a cold, tense expression, glaring towards her as he edged closer.

Louise turned back towards her summon - her familiar - who stood seemingly gazing at the crowd, though the helmet made it impossible to tell for certain. Familiars took after those that summoned them. If she'd summoned a... a demon for a familiar...

Then suddenly, without warning, the creature turned back toward her and lashed out. Louise couldn't help but shriek in surprise and sudden terror as an arm slashed downward, a clawed, jet-black and, Louise realized, unarmored hand grabbing her by the scruff of her shirt and lifting her up, face-to-face. The crowd behind her hushed and froze, but Louise hardly noticed, mind focused instead on the hand so near her throat, claws pressing into the bottom of her chin, hot, dry and foul-smelling air blowing into her face with the creature's every breath. Her eyes watered, and a moist warmth spread between her legs.

"Familiar." The demon spat.

Louise squeaked, then squealed like a stuck pig as the hand suddenly shifted its grip from her shirt to her throat and began to squeeze.

"You summoned me... as a familiar." It was not a question.

Louise tried to speak, but found her tongue either unable or unwilling to obey. After a moment, she simply nodded.

"As in a permanent, long-term summoning. A life contract. A thrall. A... _pet_."

Louise cried out as she was flung to the ground as suddenly as she'd been picked up from it, staring up in shock and horror as her familiar - _who she hadn't bound yet,_ she suddenly realized! - loomed over her, grasping a spiky protrusion at its hip and pulling it free - to reveal a wicked and sharp-looking hand axe, crafted from the same flesh-colored material as the creature's armor. Louise realized with a start that what she had initially taken for asymmetrical decorations on the demon's armor were, in fact, an entire _arsenal_ of weapons strapped to every point of its body, including another axe, what appeared to be a pair of swords, some sort of mace or club and at least four daggers that she could see off hand.

"Nnnnnnnnnooope." the demon growled, raising the axe in its hands high above its head, ready to split her in two-

And then a fireball hit it straight in the face.

* * *

_'Yeah, not happening.'_ Azatot grumbled as he raised his war axe, _'Nope. Nnnnnnnnnooope. I don't care if it's the fucking Telvanni Archmagister, if some fucking piece of scamp shit mortal thinks I'm going to sign on with some shitty fucking life contract and stick around the however many fucking centuries it takes the motherfucker to die, they've got another fucking thing coming!'_

He had just been about the bring the axe down and head this whole problem off at the proverbial pass when the older human shot forward, hurling a ball of raging flame from his hand that engulfed Azatot's head in an inferno. While the flames - even magical ones - did little but slightly warm the soul-infused ebony of his helmet, the attack had hit with sufficient physical force that Azatot had actually been forced backwards a few steps, axe-arm falling to a guard position while his free hand swiped at the fires covering his field of vision, smothering the already-fading flames with his palm.

_'Note to self: mortals attempting to use fire on a Kynaz might not be stupid, just powerful.'_ Though now that his memory had been refreshed, he could distinctly remember this happening to him before. Twice. _'Fuck. Third time's the charm, I suppose.'_

He turned to glare at the older mage, who had now begun to back away, dragging his stunned and shivering pink-haired summoner with one hand while readying a second fireball at the tip of his staff in the other. _'Oh. Staves. Guess he's not all that powerful after all. Smart, though.'_ Their gazes met, one pair of eyes hidden behind the light glinting off a pair of simple reading glasses, the other behind the faceguard of an intimidating daedric helmet forged of volcanic rock and tortured souls. The mage did not flinch.

Azatot smirked. _'Not bad, mortal.'_

A second, weaker fireball washed over his chestplate, and Azatot turned to regard the Redguard girl who'd thrown it, ducking beneath a third attack made by the older mage. _'Pitiful. Ah well, it's not like I really need her intact...'_ he thought, shifting his grip on the axe in his hand - and then sending it spinning through the air towards the girl's head. The redhead's eyes widened as the axe drew near, and she abandoned her incantation, throwing herself to the side in a clumsy dodge. The axe continued on, embedding itself in the skull of a slack-jawed male that had been standing behind her, and the human slumped to the ground bonelessly.

Now panic spread through the audience in full, and the crowd of youths began screaming and fleeing in all directions, many taking to the air with spells of levitation. Azatot charged towards the closest group that had remained on the ground, growling as several of his targets also began to take to the air at his approach. Three remained on the ground, however, a pair of females and a bulky male who pressed themselves back against the wall in terror.

Azatot grinned behind his helmet, rolling beneath the adult mage's flaming whip strike - _'Huh. That's new.'_ - and coming up drawing a sword in each hand as he dashed forward. One of the two girls regained her wits enough to attempt an escape skyward, but only managed to fly up a few feet when Azatot hurled the shortsword in his left hand, pinning her to the wall through the heart. A pair of weak fire spells washed harmlessly over his back, followed by a more effective ice attack, and Azatot grabbed the male by the neck and hauled him around, using the boy as a human shield and forcing the teacher and several apprentices to abort their attacks, a few errant badly-aimed blasts striking the wall around them. Keeping the sword in his right hand close to his shield's neck, Azatot reached with his left to grab the still-frozen girl next to him, only to be forced to draw his hand back with a curse as a powerful and accurate pair of ice spears smashed into the wall beside him. The girl, startled back to her senses, scrambled away and took to the air.

On the opposite side of the clearing, the teacher and several students - including the red-haired Redguard and the two blondes - had formed a ragged line facing him, spells held at the ready. Azatot edged forward, trying to keep his living shield between him and the firing line, but the flamboyant male with the open shirt merely began circling around to his right, the girl with the _fucking stupid-looking_ drillhair following after him, and two more students quickly began following his example, flanking to the left, as the adult, the Redguard, and a short blue-haired girl with a staff kept to the center of the formation.

_'Well fucking shit.'_ Azatot snarled, eyes tracking back and forth. _'They're smarter than I gave them credit for. Seems my luck's run out.'_

He sighed. _'Guess I'll just have to go down fighting.'_

"What's your name, mortal?" Azatot growled, edging to the right. The pudgy boy whimpered for a moment, then squeaked as Azatot edged his sword close enough to his neck to draw blood.

"M-M-Ma-Malicorne."

"Well, 'Malicorne'. Sucks to be you." Azatot pulled his blade away, shoved the boy forward, and then hacked off his head, grinning as he felt the mortal's shrieking soul flow through his sword and into one of the black soul gems embedded within his armor.

The teacher reacted instantly, eyes narrowing in rage as a massive fire spell surged towards him. Azatot heaved the corpse into the fireball's path and began running right, though not quite fast enough to completely avoid the explosion, which picked him up and hurled him forwards - directly towards his target. Azatot hit the ground running, another pair of weak fire spells brushing harmlessly across his armor, followed shortly by a heavy impact right behind his shoulders that felt vaguely like an Orc clubbing him over the head with a warhammer. Azatot forced himself onwards, and the open-shirted fop in his path waved the-

_'You're fucking shitting me. Is that a fucking _rose?_'_

-_fucking rose_ in his hand, and in a flash of light a pair of magical summons appeared in his path. The two creatures vaguely resembled Golden Saints, but seemed somehow... different. Artificial.

_'Armor material is different.'_ Azatot's eyes narrowed as he charged forwards, _'Bronze, not gold. Aura's all wrong too - not an Aureal. Some kind of Atronach? Never seen one like that before. Bronze... If it was brass, I'd have thought maybe some sort of animunculi... Hmph. Who gives a shit.'_

The two bronze constructs met his charge, one rushing towards him bare-handed while a second stood back, sword in hand. Azatot reversed momentum, bouncing back on his heel as the first construct neared him - then ducked as a flurry of magical attacks rushed over his head, several striking the summon and blowing it backwards. Azatot grinned and hurled himself forward once more, grabbing the mace strapped to his back in one hand and meeting the second construct head on. The summon moved quickly, its bronze sword flying towards him with great speed. Azatot blocked the strike on his right pauldron, pulled his mace-arm back, and swung, smashing the construct's head flat. The bronze summon fell, disintegrating, and Azatot hacked its off-balanced counterpart in half with his sword as hurled himself past and towards their summoner even as a powerful fire spell struck his left arm, the mace falling from his hand as it briefly lost all feeling.

The open-shirted blond stepped back, eyes wide, as Azatot bore down on him, sword raised to split him in half. Throwing his arms up, the boy summoned an ornate bronze sword of his own, raising it up to meet Azatot's attack and bracing it with both hands-

The enchanted daedric ebony smashed through it with ease, Azatot's blade biting deeply into the boy's face. The youth fell backwards screaming, and Azatot stepped forwards to impale him through the chest, only to suddenly find himself flung up and backwards by some great, unseen force.

Azatot's eyes followed the magic surrounding him back to its source, the blond female. _'Targeted levitation and telekinesis? Clever, bitch.'_

And then something smashed into him like he'd just been hit with a house.

Azatot was flung down like a discarded toy, impacting the ground solidly and leaving a deep furrow in the soil as he slid onwards, his sword flying from his hand and landing well beyond him nearly on the opposite side of the courtyard. He stood, awkwardly, a powerful fire attack rocking him back on his heels and cooking him even through his armor, but remained upright, staring in shock at what had hit him.

_'Oh shit. A fucking dragon.'_

The massive - if young - frost dragon before him roared in his face, snapping her jaws forward. Azatot leaped backwards, then cursed as the dragon grinned at him and opened her maw wide. "FO KRAH..."

Azatot's eyes shot around the clearing for an instant, then fixed on a suitable shield. Rolling to the side to avoid a flurry of frost and fire spells, he threw himself atop the Redguard, grabbing her by the shirt and between her legs and ignoring the enticing but ultimately distracting flush this brought to her dusky face as he turned and hurled her toward the dragon, which immediately snapped her mouth shut, abandoning the breath attack to rise on her legs and sweep one wing forward, gently catching the girl and letting her slide carefully to the ground.

Something roared to his left, and Azatot whirled on it to see a furious salamander leaping at him, fire surging from its open mouth and washing across his face. Azatot dodged back, then to the side, drawing a pair of daggers from his armor. The salamander leaped again, only this time Azatot ducked low beneath its fire breath and stabbed forwards, catching it in the chest and left forward leg. The creature shrieked and whipped its tail around, catching him in the arm and stomach just as another frost bolt thudded into his temple. Azatot raked the dagger in his right hand down the creature's side, severing its two left legs and biting deep into its tail, then hurled it away just as the dragon crashed into the ground in front of him, roaring again in his face. Azatot stumbled backwards with a grimace, hurling the dagger in his left hand into the dragon's neck. The dragon howled as the blade pierced her scales, then again as Azatot pressed the attack, drawing another dagger - this one glistening with a wet, green sheen - and stabbing into her chest. The dragon spun and whipped at him with her tail, slapping him backwards, and Azatot landed unsteadily on his feet just as a _massive_ wall of ice smashed into him, flinging him across the courtyard and into the outer wall. The stone shuddered, but held, and Azatot slid to the ground, slowly staggered forward two steps, then fell flat on his face, unconsciousness overtaking him.

* * *

_'That wasn't supposed to happen.'_

Colbert bent over, bracing his arms on his knees, and breathed deeply. It'd been a long, long time since he'd had a serious fight. As he looked up and surveyed the three dead and one severely injured students scattered around the clearing - not counting the two wounded familiars that were now being tended by their masters - he concluded that it'd been _too_ long. He was out of shape, dangerously so.

And he'd failed his students because of that.

_'That wasn't supposed to happen.'_

A pair of academy guards in bright red robes flew down, taking in the scene. One retched at the sight of Malicorne's headless body and Ellie's corpse hanging suspended from the side of the main tower, the other running over to him, rambling an almost incoherent stream of rapid-fire questions. Colbert wordlessly pointed him over to the demon laying motionless at edge of the courtyard, watching as the man turned and cautiously approached the armored figure.

_'That wasn't supposed to happen.'_ he thought again, breathing heavily. _'The Familiar Summoning Ritual _never_ summons something that would be hostile towards its summoner. That wasn't supposed to happen.'_

"By the Founder, what IS that thing?!" a voice called out, and Colbert turned to see the second mage run up to his partner, still pale.

The first edged closer, aiming his staff at the demon's prone form. "I'm not sure."

The second walked up straight beside it and nudged it with his foot. "Is it dead?"

"Don't get so close to it!" Colbert snapped, "It's-"

The demon's arm snapped out, grabbing the second mage by the leg. "_Ei nath._"

The man exploded.

Colbert fell backwards as something smashed into his face. As he rolled back to his feet, he realized it had been a severed arm, now twitching on the lawn beside him. Magical fire crackled off to his right, and Colbert spun to see the staff-armed guard releasing a torrent of fire directly into the demon's face. It merely growled in response, grabbing the man's staff and yanking it out of his hands. The mage leaped backwards, pulling a back-up wand out of his sleeve, then dropped it, screaming, as the demon snapped the staff in half, lunged forward holding the two halves in both hands, and pinned the mage's feet to the ground with the broken ends. The demon then rose, pointing two clawed fingers at the man's head. Red light streamed down the demon's arm, flickering as it drew across the tattoos on its hand, then released from the fingertips as a torrent of flame. The mage howled in agony as his clothes, hair, and flesh all ignited, falling backwards, knees bent, his feet still pinned to the ground.

_'Oh, Founder...'_ Colbert's eyes widened in realization. _'It's a demon - of _course_ it can also use magic.'_

The demon rose to its feet, breathing hard but otherwise seemingly unharmed. Sickly yellow light swirled around its hands, then flashed, and suddenly the demon was holding a battleaxe.

Colbert rose to his feet, grim-faced, and began to gather his willpower for another spell.

Across from him, the demon charged.

* * *

Louise had been too stunned by her near-death to do more than watch as the demon - the demon _she_ had summoned - wrecked havoc. The moment the first student fell dead upon the grass, she realized that her time at the Tristain Magic Academy, her reputation as a mage, and possibly her very life were all over.

Something had gone horribly wrong, and she and she alone was responsible.

The realization left her numb, inside and out, and she remained still and helpless on the ground, watching entranced as the battle ensued around her. The demon was quick and agile despite being clad in bulky and heavy armor of plate over mail, very skilled in the use of the arsenal of weapons strapped to its body, seemingly immune to magical attack, and utterly ruthless. It was only after the demon had used its own magic to kill the two academy guards that the danger of the situation finally sunk in.

_'It's going to kill everyone.'_ she realized with a sharp intake of breath, watching as Montmorency and a few other students dragged Guiche and Kirche away from the battle. _'Mister Colbert, me, everyone...'_ Louise stumbled to her feet, clutching her wand tight in her hand.

_'I caused this. _I'm_ responsible for this.'_ she took a deep breath to steady herself, then began to incant. _'I've got to help stop it.'_

* * *

Azatot howled as a blast of fire scorched his armor, the heat burning straight through the daedric ebony to scorch his flesh beneath. _'Bloody fuck is this bastard good.'_ he grunted in grudging respect, hacking at the master fire mage's head with his battleaxe, only for the human to duck beneath it and fly backwards, baking his leg with yet another rush of flame. _'Graagh! I'm gonna enjoy ripping him to pieces when I catch him!'_ Azatot released a quick shock spell at the retreating mage, then was suddenly bowled over backwards by a torrent of icy wind. _'And who the fuck keeps hitting me with frost?!'_ Roaring in anger, he spun towards his other opponent - most of the other mortals who had been assisting in the battle earlier had all fled - only to find the tiny blue-haired girl glaring at him with a cold fury, magicka swirling around her as she channeled another spell.

Azatot fumbled for another dagger, then was forced to leap away as the fire mage narrowly missed him with yet another bolt of fire. This gave the girl time to complete her incantation, and Azatot gagged down blood as a large, multifaceted sharp-edged crystal flew from the end of her staff, catching him flatfooted and slicing deeply into his stomach. Azatot fell to one knee, bracing himself with his axe as he pressed his free hand into the wound.

_'Fuckdammit.'_ he channeled magicka for a fire touch spell, wreathing his hand in flames and cauterizing the open wound. He then lurched backwards as synchronized blasts of flame and ice crisscrossed where his head had been moments prior. _'At the very least I want to get _one_ of these fucks! Can't I get a fucking break here?'_

A massive surge of magicka erupted to his left. Azatot whirled, surprised, and saw magic whirling around the pink-haired girl that had summoned him, building up into an attack that promised a whole new spectrum of pain for him in a few moments.

_'I guess not.'_

And then everything exploded.

* * *

Louise felt like screaming out in frustration as her attempted fireball failed and exploded, then stopped, blinking in surprise as Tabitha blew away the resulting smoke with a gust of wind and froze. The demon lay smoking and motionless in the middle of a circle of blasted dirt, its armor cracked and oozing black blood. The battleaxe it had been holding was nowhere to be seen. Louise approached the fallen demon slowly, Professor Colbert and Tabitha coming up alongside her, Kirche jogging up as well a second later.

The demon lay still. Then twitched. Then again, weakly reaching towards one of the daggers strapped to its armor.

_'It's still alive.'_ Louise thought, incredulous. Professor Colbert raised a hand, preparing another fire spell - then fell to his knees, gasping. Louise turned towards him, surprised.

"Tabitha?!" Kirche suddenly blurted.

Louise whirled to her right, seeing Kirche knelt down next to her blue-haired classmate, who was bent over, breathing heavily. _'They're both out of willpower.'_ she realized, turning back towards the demon, which was now starting to slowly rise once more. _'I have to...!'_ She raised her wand and began incanting the spellwords for another fireball, but groaned, her arm dropping as she, too, found herself lacking the strength for a second attack. She looked at Kirche, who seemed equally at a loss. The Germanian turned, casting a fireball point-blank into the demon - which even as wounded as it was seemed to hardly notice - then aimed a kick at the side of its head, only to hop backwards on one foot, cursing and clutching the other in obvious pain afterwards. It would've almost been funny if they weren't all in serious mortal danger, really.

_'I have to...'_ she turned back to the demon, mind working furiously. _'I... maybe if I...'_

The demon's clawed fingers brushed against the hilt of one of its daggers.

Instantly Louise knelt over it, grabbing the dagger away from its grasping hands and hurling it away, wincing as one of the dagger's spikes caught on the side of her hand and drew blood. Straddling the demon's chest and doing her best to pin its arms with her knees, Louise raised her wand and channeled the last of her willpower into the first spell she could think of.

"Pentagon of the Five Elemental Powers..." she incanted.

"L-Louise?!"

"Grant your blessings upon this creature..." her eyes closed, blocking out everything around her.

"Miss Valliere! What are you-"

"And bind it as my familiar..." she leaned forward.

"Louise, don't-!"

Grasping the demon's helmet in both hands, she yanked it sharply off and away, ignoring the burning pain from the helm's spikes and heat as she tossed it aside, then grabbed the demon's face in both hands and pressed her lips against its brow.

* * *

Azatot growled low through the haze of pain as he felt the binding magic take effect.

_'Fuck. That's it, then. I guess it's just gonna be one of _those_ centuries.'_

The girl - his new master - released him and backed away, eyes still closed, then lurched to the side, vomiting and crying as she clutched her scorched palms to her chest. Azatot almost felt insulted. It couldn't have been all THAT bad, could it-

Then she clutched her hand and started screaming.

_'Huh?'_ Azatot focused on her through the haze obscuring his vision, then nearly choked in surprise as he saw the daedric _Oht_ sigil burning into the back of her left hand. _'Uh oh.'_

* * *

Professor Colbert stumbled forward next to the young Valliere, only mildly surprised to find Miss Zerbst beating him there by a good margin, grabbing the thrashing girl by the shoulders and trying to calm her. "Louise? Louise!"

Colbert grasped the girl's hand, minding the raw, reddened skin of her palm, his eyes widening as he saw the smoking, unfamiliar symbol burned into it. _'Familiar runes? No.'_ his eyes narrowed. _'This is something different...'_

Something laughed beside them, harsh and echoing. He, Louise and Kirche all stilled, then turned slowly as the demon struggled up to a sitting position beside them, grinning wickedly. Its - his - face with sharp and angular, with sleek black skin like polished obsidian shot with blood-red tattoos and sigils. Colbert started as he recognized the symbol that had been marked on Louise's hand emblazoned on the demon's right cheek, below the eye. A pair of short, sharp black horns jutted up from his head - Colbert idly wondered how they'd managed to fit beneath his helmet - and the demon even had hair, though it had been shorn down into stubble... revealing a pair of slender, pointed ears that unsettled him, even though he _knew_ that there was no way this... this _creature_ could be an elf.

In fact, it was almost more terrifying than one.

The demon laughed once more, the solid black voids of his eyes glinting in an eerily human expression of amusement. "Hah! It seems _'Father'_ Dagon likes you." Louise twitched beside him in Kirche's arms, then started trembling. "I suppose that makes this official, then." he said, grinning once more. "'Master'."

Louise fainted.

* * *

Azatot fell backwards onto the grass, roaring with laughter. _'Not sure what the branding was all about, but I get the feeling it means something important. Heh. Maybe this won't be such a boring gig after all. I'm actually almost starting to look forward to it...'_

Something heavy suddenly stomped down beside him. Azatot blinked his eyes open, looking up into the faces of four of the blond fop's bronze summons and one very, _very_ angry-looking adolescent frost dragon. The constructs raised their arms, clutching their hands together for a double-handed blow, and the dragon turned, raising her tail.

_'Oh shi-'_

The blows rained down upon him.

* * *

Osmond frowned and leaned back in his chair as Professor Colbert finished his report.

"...Hmm."

Silence.

Colbert shifted uneasily. "What should we do, sir?"

"Hmm. Well, clearly our first order of business is to alert the families of the slain. Mmm-hmm. Yes. I'll ask Miss Longueville to get right on that. Hmm."

Colbert shifted again. "And what about Miss Valliere? While I'm sure it wasn't her intention, it was her familiar that did this."

"Yes, yes. Clearly we should've taken more precautions."

"S-sir?" Colbert blurted, blinking in surprise.

Osmond stood, pacing behind his desk. "Yes. The Springtime Familiar Summoning has never summoned a hostile creature before, as far as we know, but there's always been a certain level of danger involved. Like that incident at Henfreckle." There, thirty years prior, the teaching staff at Albion's largest and most prestigious magical academy had made the rather ill-advised decision to prepare multiple summoning circles in the hopes of speeding up the process of more than four hundred students all summoning their familiars on the same day. Less than an hour into the ritual three students had simultaneously managed to summon three dragons, who while not hostile towards their summoners had turned hostile towards _each other,_ and the whole academy had been demolished in the ensuing scuffle, never to be rebuilt.

Not that Osmond particularly minded, death toll be damned. At least now there was no one to strong-arm the magical academies of Halkeginia into playing that damned broom-ball nonsense anymore.

"I, um, see, sir." Colbert sighed, then straightened. "But still, there's been a lot of calls from both the faculty and the student body for Miss Valliere to face an Inquisitorial trial."

"Hmph! Nonsense. Only a sanctioned Bishop has that authority."

"Nevertheless-"

"Yes, yes." Osmond paused, then sighed. "Hmm. For her own safety, have her confined to her room and placed under guard. For now."

"And her wand?"

Osmond turned towards him, eyes flinty as he drew himself up to his full height... and shrugged. "Do what you feel is best."

"Of course, Headmaster."

"Good." Osmond returned to his seat, folding his hands over one another in front of his mouth. The pose was, for some odd reason, highly ominous. "What about the... demon?"

Colbert straightened his glasses. "Despite our best efforts, it's still alive. Mr. Gramont had already dismissed his golems when we realized the creature was still moving, though unconscious, and I felt it a waste of energy to continue trying to kill it. H... _it_ has been bound and placed under guard in the basement. I had Mrs. Chevreuse seal its hands and feet into the stone, and posted three of the strongest mages currently present at the academy as guards. We also collected its weapons, though the pieces of the armor that were destroyed seemed to have, um, disintegrated."

"Hmm. I see. I'll have the weapons put in the vault - they should be safe there."

"And the demon?"

Osmond closed his eyes and was silent for a long moment.

And then he began snoring.

"Headmaster Osmond!" Colbert barked sharply.

"Hhhnn?!" the old mage jerked awake, startled. "Hmm! Ah, ahem. Yes. Keep it alive for now. I'll contact the church - I'm sure they'll want to take a look at it."

"Yes sir. I'll take care of it right away."

Osmond sat back in his chair as the younger mage left the room, closing the door behind him. He waited a minute after the man had left, then sent Chuchu, his mouse familiar, to check the hallway outside. Once certain that the coast was clear, and after giving Chuchu a small treat as a reward, he drew his wand and flicked it at the door, sealing it shut, then reached down into a desk drawer and withdrew an old, dusty tome, which he sat on the desk before him, opened, and read.

A few minutes later he sighed and placed the book back into his desk, reaching over to a crystal ball at the edge of the desk and setting it down before him, then tapped it twice with the tip of his wand and waited.

It was nearly a half hour and a close call with Miss Longueville later that the orb finally glowed in response. Osmond tapped it once more.

"Osmond, old friend!" came a voice from within the orb, "Contacting me like this, it must be a special occasion. What seems to be the trouble?"

"There's a daedra in the basement." he replied without preamble.

There was a long, shocked pause.

"...Are you certain?"

"Fairly. It's description and abilities most certainly match the old records, at any rate. It introduced itself as a Caitiff and servant of the Prince of Destruction."

"A Dremora." the voice breathed, then muttered low and indistinctly for a moment before returning. "Is it still alive?"

"For the moment. It slew several students and two teachers before it was apprehended, however."

"Founder guide their souls to Heaven for their sacrifice. But keep it alive! I'll be there as soon as I can. This is an immense opportunity for us."

"Yes." Osmond closed his eyes, hoping he wasn't making yet another entry in the long list of mistakes he'd made throughout his long lifetime. "I know."

* * *

Louise silently handed her wand over to Professor Colbert, who pocketed it, face expressionless. "Just... stay in your room for a little while, Miss Valliere. Just until we can sort things out."

Louise made no response.

Colbert patted her on the shoulder reassuringly. "I'll have some dinner sent up later. Try to get some rest."

Louise nodded silently, turning and walking over to her bed, sitting at the edge and staring out the window, her back to the door.

Colbert sighed, turning and leaving the room. Closing the door, he stepped back, nodding to the earth mage beside him.

The man looked dubious. "Should we really have sealed up the window as well?" he asked, "It's not like she knows how to fl-" he stopped, eyes widening as the older fire mage turned a baleful glare in his direction. "Er, I'll just get to work and go away then." he nodded, turning towards the wall and incanting as he raised his wand.

Louise reached over and grabbed a pillow as the stone wall around her doorway shifted, sliding over the door and door frame and sealing her into her room. Clutching the pillow to her chest, she fell over onto the bed, pressed her face into the mattress, and finally allowed herself to cry.


	3. Chapter 2 - Aftermath

**The Nu-Mantia which is Liberté**

**By: Dark Knight Gafgar**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing that is not mine, and everything that IS mine. Capiche?

**A Note From the Author:** Merry Christmas, readers! Enjoy this sudden and probably unexpected Christmas present from me to you: finally, after a two year wait, the second chapter of The Nu-Mantia which is Liberté. I know you're probably eager to begin reading - **_but wait!_** _First,_ go back and re-read the Prologue and Chapter 1, both of which have been re-written to take into account new Elder Scrolls lore information from Skyrim and revised or newly added scenes. You'll probably enjoy them. Oh, and for those who already posted reviews of the 'preview' chapter I uploaded a few months ago, remember that you can leave an additional review if you want by logging out and posting it 'anonymously'.

Again, enjoy the season, everyone. God bless.

* * *

**Chapter 2 - Aftermath**

* * *

_The council met deep within the innermost heart of their citadel, the circular stone table at which they sat laid beneath the feet of their dead god. The king's seat, at the place of honor right before the idol's toes, was the only one that remained empty._

_The councilors had been speaking at length, arguing and debating furiously with one another, when the foremost of them seated at the right hand of the empty throne suddenly held up a hand for silence, then pointed._

_The other councilors turned, frowning as they too noticed their unwelcome audience. As one, they raised their right hands and spoke-_

* * *

The black carriage rolled into the academy just after noon, while the students were supposed to be returning to their post-lunch classes.

Were _supposed_ to be, at any rate. As several teachers had left the academy over the two previous days, and another several had barricaded themselves within the chapel on the first floor of the Tower of Void with a full dozen of the second-year students, classes had been suspended for an indefinite period. The first and third year students were anxious. Rumors abounded that a teacher had gone mad and attacked his students, or that one of the legendary and accursed elves had interrupted a class seeking a virgin sacrifice and been driven away by the only Germanian on campus, or that the Gramont boy had donned a mask and started brainwashing people with his eyes in an attempt to steal the infamous Louise de la Valliere's nickname, and any number of wild and outlandish stories. Whatever the truth was - and the Headmaster and his office were keeping that truth very hush-hush - _something_ had happened during the Familiar Summoning ritual a few days prior, and already a number of second year students had left the academy, several on that very day and without a single word of goodbye. They'd also heard one of the students involved had been confined to their room, though as many of the remaining second-year students still at the academy had not left their own rooms during that time, and the rest were keeping quiet, confirming the story was next to impossible.

Of course, the arrival of a carriage bearing three black-robed Inquisitors, hoods drawn up and fairly obvious but powerful illusions leaving their faces hidden in shadow, was bound to start the rumor mill circulating all over again.

Headmaster Osmond met the three in the entry hall of the central tower, Professor Colbert standing beside him. The tower was otherwise empty - all students, faculty, and servants had been asked to remain in the other courtyards or outer towers for the time being. "Hmm. Thank you for responding so quickly." Osmond said, inclining his head briefly in gratitude.

The lead Inquisitor, the gold lining of his robe denoting a high rank, stepped forward, all business. "Do the accused and the accusation remain?"

"Yes."

The leader turned to his subordinates. "Interrogate the student immediately." he commanded. The pair nodded silently, following Professor Colbert away towards the second-year students' dorms. The two remaining men waited in silence for several long minutes after Colbert and the others had gone, staring quietly at one another with tense, measuring looks.

"...Hah! Haven't seen you wear that old outfit in a long time, old friend!" Osmond finally said, flicking his wand towards the wall and sealing the room with a magical barrier.

Cardinal Mazarin reinforced the barrier with his own magic before pulling his hood back and dispelling the illusionary shadow over his face. "A part of the past I dislike thinking about, but still useful on occasion." he said with wry grin that most would have been shocked to see such a renowned and, indeed, almost infamous person to be wearing.

"I hope you didn't have to pull too many strings to put yourself here."

"Not really. His Holiness understands how important this could be - for us, for everyone. Convincing Archbishop de Gondi of the same was not a difficult matter."

Osmond sighed, leaning heavily on his staff. "I hope we're doing the right thing."

Mazarin strode forward, patting the headmaster on the shoulder reassuringly. "I know what you're worried about, Osmond. And I agree - we can't let this become too widespread." He mumbled something quietly under his breath for a moment before speaking up again. "Still, the opportunity exists. It'd be foolish of us to pass it up."

"That, at least, I can agree with." Osmond straightened up. "Well then. I suppose we should go have a talk with our visitor now."

The Cardinal drew his hood back over his head and cast the illusion of shadow over his face once again. "Indeed."

* * *

Professor Colbert turned his head slightly to regard the pair of Inquisitors following behind him for a moment. The two shadowy, black-robed figures were a little short, compared to him, and slim - while their features and figures were concealed by their clothing, Colbert reckoned them with women, no doubt sisters of the Church Militant, trained in the art of battling elves, fiends, and demons.

And heretics.

Colbert looked away, closing his eyes for a moment and praying a silent prayer for his student's sake even as he made the final turn down the hallway toward Louise de la Valliere's room. A pair of red-robed Academy guards stood watch, partly to keep the - _alleged_ - heretic confined to her room, partly to keep away other students who might seek to harm the accused girl, or perhaps help her attempt an escape.

Aside from a rather surprising pair of well-wishers from amongst her classmates, no one else had approached Louise's room until now.

Sighing quietly, Colbert strode up to the two guards, who turned to regard his approach - and paled at the sight of the Inquisitors behind him.

"The... Inquisition is here." Colbert said, glancing back behind him for a moment before returning his gaze to the two guards. "They want access to Miss- ...to the accused's room." The shorter of the two Inquisitors nodded gravely at his statement.

The senior guard swallowed, and nodded, retrieving a wand from his robe and turning towards the featureless stone wall. With a brief incantation the stone slid away, revealing the wooden door concealed within.

The Inquisitors immediately strode forward. The red-robed guards practically fled at their approach, quickly moving - if not _quite_ running - a good half dozen feet down the hallway away from the door. The shorter of the two Inquisitors paused at the doorway, speaking quietly to her taller companion, then turned to open the door slightly, immediately stepping inside and closing it behind her. Moments later, the door glowed briefly as a spell of silence was placed upon the room within. The second Inquisitor turned her back to the closed door, facing out into the hallway and crossing her arms in front of her chest, daring any onlookers to try spying on the room inside.

The two academy guards, no longer seeing a need to remain nearby, immediately hurried off.

Colbert leaned back against the wall across from Louise's door and crossed his own arms, stared into the magical black shadow of the Inquisitor's hood, and waited.

* * *

Louise blinked her tired, reddened eyes once as she heard the stone covering her door pull away. Turning towards the doorway, she was utterly unsurprised as, moments later, the door opened to admit a single black-robed Inquisitor, their face concealed with a shadowy illusion as they closed the door and quietly sealed it with a magical lock and a spell of silence.

Louise closed her eyes and bowed her head, shuffling around on her bed slightly to sit at the edge, facing towards her approaching fate.

"Forgive me, father, for I have sinned." Louise said quietly, just loud enough to hear. _'And forgive me, mother,'_ she silently continued, _'for failing you.'_

The Inquisitor paused briefly, then quickly strode forward. Louise clenched her eyes shut, trembling slightly as the Inquisitor approached... then gasped, eyes widening as the black-robed figure suddenly embraced her in a tight, comforting hug.

"Oh, my dear Louise Francoise," a feminine and surprisingly familiar voice came from the shadowy hood, "what troubles have you gotten yourself into this time?"

Louise felt her mouth fall open in surprise. Despite her best efforts, she could not muster the strength or composure to close it.

"P-pr..." Louise sputtered, then paused, wetting her lips and trying again. "Princess Henrietta...?"

The Inquisitor pulled away from Louise briefly, lowering her hood. And Crown Princess Henrietta of Tristain smiled warmly down on her. "Don't worry, Louise Francoise. Everything is going to be alright."

Louise blinked. Then again. Then she started to tremble. And finally, all self restraint gone, Louise lunged forward to embrace Henrietta herself, who quietly wrapped her arms around her as Louise began to cry once again.

* * *

_The drums drummed, the war-horns sounded, and Mehrunes Dagon's army, a thousand Dremora strong, thundered through the Oblivion gates into Nirn._

_Azatot, Dracon and Churl of the Clanless, exited the gate and winced at the bright light all around him. This battle was no Kvatch, no sudden attack in the dark of the night - the sky was pale blue, the sun shining warmly and the white snow of the Jerall mountains gleaming white under it's brilliance. The only colors that _didn't_ give Azatot - far more used to the grim darkness of Coldharbour or the fire and brimstone of the Deadlands - a raging headache were the screaming soul-infused armor of he and his fellow Kyn, the gray stone walls and towers of Bruma in the distance, and the rag-tag army of twenty thousand Imperial Legion soldiers, town guards, adventurers and other assorted mortals who stood before the Dremora on the field of battle, arrayed in a well-disciplined and loose formation to protect against magickal assault, the Imperial forces outnumbering the daedra twenty to one.  
_

_Azatot roared his satisfaction at the impending bloodshed and, along with the rest of the Churls, charged headlong into the fray._

_The archers at the rear of the Imperial lines quickly began to release swarms of arrows into the Dremora vanguard. The majority of these, made of mere iron or steel, had little effect save for where they hit unprotected flesh, which even then proved to be a mere brief distraction, and the handful of silver or ebony arrows were too few to thin the daedric ranks to any significant degree. Less than a dozen of the two hundred Churls of the first wave had fallen when the Dremora smashed into the Imperial lines with the force of a tidal wave. With the melee now in full swing, the orderly ranks of Caitiffs and Kynvals along with their ranking officers now emerged from the Oblivion gates behind their berserker subordinates, sweeping to the sides to block the Imperial flankers or taking to the sky with levitation spells to duel the Imperial battlemages in the skies above the battlefield._

_Deep in the melee along the front line, outnumbered almost thirty to one and completely surrounded by the chaos of battle, Azatot laughed with true and unashamed joy as he decapitated two town guards with one stroke of his war axe while dodging beneath a Legionnaire's sword swing, his free hand darting out and smashing through the Redguard's helmet to claw out the mortal's eyes. Two orcs, clad in hide and scale like mercenaries, charged at him with battleaxes, and Azatot dodged backwards, spinning around a Legionnaire's attempted stab in the back and slashing open the throat of a nearby battlemage, who immediately lost control of his spell and was consumed in his own flames. The Legionnaire tried to turn to face him, but Azatot merely pressed his palm against the mortal's back and released a powerful shock spell, dropping the human instantly. _

_One of the two orcs leaped over the steaming corpse as it fell, axe falling in a vicious overhand blow set to cleave Azatot in two. Azatot sidestepped and allowed the axe to come down hard on his pauldron, grunting from the impact even as his left arm lashed out to snap the orc's neck. The second orc roared in berserk rage, swinging his battleaxe wildly, hacking his brother's corpse to pieces in an attempt to get at the daedra behind it. Azatot threw the makeshift shield at his opponent and drew a dagger in his off hand, then lunged forward as the orc pushed the corpse aside and brought the blade down into the orc's skull. A burst of flame magick from the enchanted dagger cooked the orc's brains and burst his boiling eyes, but even in death the orc's final axe-swing smashed into Azatot's armor and bit deeply into his chest._

_Azatot stumbled backwards with a curse, leaving the dagger implanted in the second orc's skull as he applied fire to cauterize his wounds with his off hand, swatting a pair of arrows out of the air with his axe before ducking under the swing of a claymore. Burying his war axe in the adventurer's gut and leaving it there, Azatot drew his sword, slashing through the woman's neck and ripping her soul from her body and into one of the black soul gems beneath his armor. All around him the Churls of the first cohort pressed on..._

_And then, suddenly, they were through the first of the Imperial ranks, the few surviving mortals shrieking in fear or bellowing in defiance as they were beaten to the ground and butchered by the orderly Caitiffs and Kynvals following behind the first wave. The victorious Churls spared only a few moments to celebrate with victorious howls before being silenced by the sight of the prey suddenly revealed before them._

_There, seated upon a magnificent black stallion at the head of the second line of the Imperial army, his golden armor gleaming with enchantments, the would-be Emperor Martin Septim raised his arms wide, magicka flowing from his fingertips to unleash a tide of destruction upon the daedric army. Here, a whole section of the Dremora lines simply _disappeared_ as the daedra within it were banished back to Oblivion - there, a pair of atronachs suddenly burst into existence to fend off a group of Churls as their targets, a trio of wounded mortal warriors and a mage, staggered away into the safety of the Imperial ranks. The Emperor's Blades, seeing the foe before them, drew their Akaviri katanas as one, moving quickly to place themselves before their master and those who might threaten him.  
_

_The Dremora roared in bloodlust and charged._

_Azatot dashed forward, sword and mace in hand, eager to take the last Septim's head and soul for his own. For an instant another Churl, unhelmed, nearly took the lead, howling in triumph - Azatot turned and swung his mace, shouting a foul oath and bashing out his competitor's brains before turning back to face his mortal opponents._

_Suddenly, spilling out from the Blades' ranks and taking the fore came a small group of knights, clad in heavy coats and coifs of mail under white tabards emblazoned with red diamonds. Followed closely by yet more soldiers of the Imperial Legion and finally members of the Blades themselves, the mortal host hurled itself against the charging daedra. Azatot laughed aloud as he bashed a Legionnaire's head flat, slashing his sword at one of the mail-clad knights, who deflected the blow with his shield. Azatot, undeterred, slashed again, only to find his blow parried by the folded steel of an Akaviri katana._

_The Redguard Blade wielding it sneered and slashed at Azatot's head, forcing him to duck beneath the blow - and leaving him wide open for a downward swing from the mail-clad knight. The knight's steel sword shattered upon Azatot's helmet, dazing and staggering him. The Blade took this opportunity to draw his katana back, then slash brutally downwards, taking Azatot's left arm off at the elbow._

_Howling in fury and pain, Azatot lunged toward the Blade and spat into his eyes, the venom burning into the Redguard's face and forcing him to stagger away screaming. The mail-clad knight unleashed a series of ice spears that sliced into Azatot's weakening armor, impaling him thrice over, and Azatot could only stumble forward with a half-hearted swing of his sword in response, which was ably dodged. The knight stepped forward to deliver the coup de grâce, but was forced back as another pair of Churls lunged toward him from out of the melee._

_Azatot used the brief lull to fall to one knee, plunging his sword into the ground as he furiously used flame to attempt to staunch the flow of blood from his arm and body and melt the icy spears penetrating his armor. Struggling back onto his feet, sword in hand, Azatot furiously swept his head back and forth, trying to catch sight of the Septim's golden armor once again-_

_The second knight caught him completely by surprise. Stampeding through the daedric line on a white horse, the knight in the white plate armor rode toward Azatot, mace held high. Azatot could only raise his sword weakly in an attempt to parry._

_The Mace of the Crusader fell, and Azatot's world plunged into darkness._

_By the time he awoke a week later, struggling out of the black waters of Oblivion and onto the steaming shores of Nu-Mantia, the great battles of Bruma and the Imperial City were over, and though the last of the Septims had been brought down so too had the Prince of Destruction, Mehrunes Dagon. The Dragonfires remained unlit, and Nirn remained vulnerable... but with Jyggalag's revival, Azura's rage following the Red Year, and the movements of the other princes, marshaling forces for a second attack proved impossible in the short term.  
_

_The invasion of Tamriel had ended in failure._

_This time.  
_

* * *

Azatot blearily opened his eyes, growling softly as the mixed glory and shame of his memories receded. Flexing his arms against the thick stone enclosed tightly around them almost up to his shoulders, Azatot raised his head and glared as the pair of elderly human men entered into his dark cellar of a prison.

"The _fuck_ do you want?" Azatot asked, spitting steaming venom onto the ground at their feet.

The bearded elder mage raised an eyebrow, keeping his staff well in hand as his robed companion stepped casually over the acidic poison, pulling a small wooden stool away from the wall nearby and seating himself in front of Azatot.

"I would bargain with you, daedra." the man declared, inclining his head slightly.

Azatot blinked in surprise. Then grinned.

"You have my attention, mortal."

* * *

Henrietta de Tristain covered her mouth with one hand as her other traced the blackened burn marks - uninfected despite the _complete lack_ of medical treatment Louise had received since she was confined, unlike the smaller cuts and burns on her palms, something that along with the ignored and mouldering trays of food near the door Henrietta would almost have liked to see heads roll for - that scoured the back of her dear friend Louise's left hand. Even those who did not recognize the symbol would be struck by an intense sensation of foreboding... though Henrietta herself recognized the _Oht_ just fine.

"Don't worry, Louise Francoise," Henrietta repeated for what was probably the tenth time in the last few minutes, shaking her head as she channeled her magick into Louise's hand, healing the small cuts and burns along her palms - though, as expected, doing nothing to the blackened mark, "everything is going to be alright! I promise."

"B-but Prin-"

"Henrietta." the 'princess' warned, fixing Louise with a stern but not unkind gaze.

"...But Henrietta... I..." Louise looked away. "I summoned a demon. For a familiar. And it killed people. That... that sort of crime doesn't just go away."

"Of course not." Henrietta agreed, nodding as she clasped Louise's hand in her own. "Demon summoning _is_ a major, heretical crime. But come now," the princess shook her head firmly, "_you,_ Louise Francoise, a heretic? The sun would go dark before I'd believe such a thing!"

"But the Inquisition-"

"Agree with me." Henrietta said simply, leaving Louise open-mouthed in surprise. "What?" Henrietta asked pointedly, tugging her black robes for emphasis, "Did you think I just _stole_ this to sneak in?"

"Well, no..." Louise admitted. Though the thought had crossed her mind, given some of their games as children...

"Good. Because I've already spoken to Archbishop de Gondi in person, and he agrees with me." Henrietta announced, ignoring Louise's jolt. "Why shouldn't he, after all? It's not like you _actually_ summoned a demon. Such a ridiculous rumor! Pure slander!"

"...But, um, Pr- Henrietta, I..."

"Though I _do_ think you need a break from your studies for awhile." Henrietta continued, ignoring Louise's attempt to speak - for now. Louise could be brought up to speed in private later. "Perhaps a visit to the palace is in order. Hmm, yes, that's what we need."

"...Huh?"

Nodding to herself, Henrietta stood, pulling her hood back up and turning towards Louise. "I hate to ask this, dear Louise Francoise, but could you perhaps please play the part of a prisoner for me again, like we used to? Just one more time?"

Louise blinked several times, her mind still reeling as it attempted to process this rapid series of surprises and shocking announcements. Finally, after a long moment, she could only offer a quiet and halting reply of "...Yes?"

* * *

Colbert had been silently staring at the Inquisitor standing before the door of Louise de la Valliere's room for a good hour, now. The tension had been broken only once so far - a half hour prior by the Germanian student, Kirche von Anhalt-Zerbst, briefly stepping only half-dressed out of the doorway to her room directly to Colbert's right with a yawn, pausing suddenly as she spotted the Inquisitor standing across the hallway from her and the balding professor staring said Inquisitor down right next to her doorway, blinking, and then quietly walking backwards into her room and shutting the door behind her - but aside from that and the resulting brief shrug from the Inquisitor, which Colbert had found himself returning, nothing else of note had happened.

Until suddenly Louise de la Valliere's door glowed slightly. Immediately the Inquisitor in front of it stepped away, turning as the door opened to admit a quiet, shaken-looking and red-eyed Louise, her head bowed as she stepped out into the hall, the shorter of the two Inquisitors following directly behind her. The two Inquisitors conversed quietly - Colbert knew better than to try eavesdropping - and then the taller of the two turned to stride towards him.

"We will be taking the accused to the capital for further interrogation." she announced.

Colbert closed his eyes briefly, then quickly opened them again as images of the Inquisitorial dungeons and what they might hold tried to assail his mind. Frowning, Colbert nodded slowly. "...I see. Will..." he paused for a moment, "will Miss Va- _'the accused'_ need to be bound?" Colbert asked, trying to ignore the brief look of betrayal Louise de la Valliere shot him at the question.

"No." the Inquisitor shook her head. "She will not be able to overpower us, particularly without her wand."

The shorter Inquisitor cleared her throat briefly.

"...Which we will need to take with us. As evidence, of course."

Colbert frowned, but nodded, retrieving Louise de la Valliere's wand from his robe and passing it over. The Inquisitor nodded, pocketing it, and turned as her shorter companion took hold of Louise de la Valliere's arm and turned to guide her down the hallway, then moved to follow.

The door beside Colbert suddenly opened again. "Louise!"

The Inquisitors halted, the taller of the two spinning around in a guarded stance as her companion and Miss Valliere both turned. There, standing in the doorway to her room, one hand clenched tight and with a frown on her face, Kirche Frederica Augusta von Anhalt-Zerbst stood silently for a long, tense moment... then sighed, giving her longtime rival a sad smile.

"...Be safe, alright, Valliere?"

Louise blinked, offering a small, slightly stunned nod before she was led away.

As the two Inquisitors and their prisoner disappeared down the stairwell, Kirche von Anhalt-Zerbst disappeared back into her room, slamming the door shut behind her. Colbert scratched his head awkwardly, confused for a moment, then strode over towards the narrow window at the edge of the hallway, looking down at the courtyard below.

There, just within sight, the black carriage waited ominously. After some minutes Louise was led to the carriage by the four robed Inquisitors, who silently climbed in with her before the carriage set off through the main gates.

Colbert blinked suddenly, his eyes narrowing. _'...Four?'_

* * *

The black Inquisitorial carriage was less than a hundred yards out of the academy gates when Princess Henrietta pulled her hood down with a relieved sigh, turning to give Louise a warm smile.

"See? That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

Louise quietly nodded. "I... suppose so. But-"

"You needn't worry, child." the 'Inquisitor' directly across from Louise said suddenly, pulling down his own hood. Louise 'eep'ed a little as Cardinal Mazarin gave her a small smile. "Everything has already been taken care of. Appearances had to be kept, of course, but rest assured that the Church is fully aware of what is going on right now. Indeed, even the Pope has given his blessings to our... admittedly somewhat dubious actions here."

Louise nodded again, still confused, but choosing not to question the situation, especially not with both her longtime friend and eventual liege and the ruling regent both assuring her that all was well. On the opposite side of Henrietta from Louise the second Inquisitor who'd been at her room lowered her hood, and Louise blinked at the unfamiliar short-haired blonde the move revealed.

Henrietta smiled at Louise and nodded her head towards the other woman as she introduced her. "Chevalier Agnes de Milan, head of my Royal Musketeers." The woman, Agnes, nodded briefly towards Louise, who returned the gesture before glancing at the final Inquisitor, easily the largest person in the carriage.

"So... is he an _actual_ Inquisitor?" Louise asked after a moment, half afraid of the answer.

The answer, it turned out, was even worse than Louise had expected, as a pair of clawed black hands suddenly emerged from the folds of the man's robe and jerked down the hood, revealing the demon's widely grinning face. "Not really, 'master'."

Louise shrank back, eyes wide. "W-why is-" she managed, trying and failing to control her breathing as the demon chuckled at her terror.

"You don't need to fear him now, child." Cardinal Mazarin announced, glancing pointedly at the demon beside him for a moment. "You successfully bound this daedra to your service. He is now obliged to follow you loyally, until either your dying days or until you release him from your thrall."

The demon nodded, grimacing. "Don't have to like it, but yeah. Can't hurry up your 'dying days', either. And the old robe here's already cut a deal to keep me from tricking you out of the bond and raping you to death with your own spine, so no worries, 'master'." he finished, grinning widely.

Louise merely whimpered and allowed herself to be pulled into Henrietta's calming embrace.

"Gotta say, though," the demon - Azatot, if she remembered his name correctly - continued, "I'm gonna need a few disposable whores soon if you keep that sort of thing up. Who's the little minx petting you anyway, 'master'?" Azatot asked, grinning and licking his lips as he eyed Henrietta up and down... and then suddenly lurched backwards with a grunt of pain, the tip of his tongue falling to the floor of the carriage and disintegrating into ash as the demon clutched his mouth in both hands, the flesh of his palms hissing as his mouth filled with burning blood.

Agnes lowered her booted foot back to the floor and glared.

"'evrmnnd." the demon said after a few moments, fixing the musketeer with a lustful gaze and speaking through his steaming hands, "'ound 'om'one more 'nter'sting."

* * *

"...and here's where you'll be staying for now, Louise Francoise." Henrietta announced, waving a hand expansively at one of the guest rooms in the royal palace in the capital, one of the ones closest to the otherwise off-limits royal wing. A group of maids bowed as the Crown Princess and her personal guest entered the room, though the youngest of them gave a brief and confused glance to the black-robed Inquisitor following behind them, apparently in a staring - _glaring,_ rather - contest with the head of the Royal Musketeers. "We _must_ speak more tomorrow, as soon as I can make time away from the current affairs of state. There's so much we need to talk about, especially once we can find some privacy."

Louise nodded again, clutching her recently-returned wand to her chest and giving a nervous look towards the huge 'Inquisitor' behind her before turning back toward Henrietta with a slightly weak smile. "Thank you, Princess." she said, bowing gratefully.

"Please, dearest Louise Francoise! Enough of titles. I hear so much of them already! Call me Henrietta, please." Henrietta said, smiling brightly and nodding as they played out the polite display, more for the servants' sake than for their own. The entire palace would know that a close friend of the Princess was in residence within the hour, and would know better than to get outraged on the Princess' behalf should the visitor seemingly break decorum in Her Highness' presence.

And with both the head of the Royal Musketeers and an _Inquisitor_ also present, tongues would most certainly not begin wagging about the new arrival anytime soon. Not until the night shift, anyway.

Louise nodded and bowed again, if not as deeply this time. "Of course, Henrietta."

Henrietta nodded graciously, then made a show of glancing out the windows at the lengthening shadows and darkening skies outside and frowning, fingers going to her lips. "Oh dear, it's so late. I'd have _liked to_ continue spending time with you - we have so much that we need to discuss! - but at this hour..."

"Of course, Henrietta." Louise replied, glancing outside as well and feeling much enheartened by the view of the evening sky visible through the windows, after two days sealed within her room. Turning away slightly and raising her hand to her mouth as if to stifle a yawn, Louise turned back toward Henrietta after a moment with another smile, this one filled with an honest warmth. "By all means, we should prepare ourselves for the evening. We can speak tomorrow, after all, once we've had time to refresh ourselves."

"Of course, of course." Henrietta nodded, half turning towards the servants waiting near the door. "Oh, but you must be _famished_ after that long journey!" Not that the few hours of travel from the Academy to the palace could be called 'long', though the servants didn't need to know that. "I know it is past dinner time - and to think we _both_ missed it, such a bother - but I cannot in good conscience allow you to sleep on an empty stomach. I'll have the servants bring up a small meal for you right away!" Henrietta declared, then continued speaking even as two of the maids immediately bowed and scurried from the room to do Her Highness' bidding, "You _must_ have something to eat. I insist!"

"Of course, Pr-Henrietta." Louise said, only half faking the near slip-up. It wouldn't do to seem _too_ eager to avoid proper decorum, after all. "I must admit I am still more fatigued than hungering, but I of course will allow myself a sample from your kitchens' evening meal."

"Oh, yes! I do believe we've hired more than one skilled new chef since you were here last." Henrietta smiled wide, "I believe we'll have to have a near-feast tomorrow night! You need to try the new cuisine that's been coming out of Romalia recently. I hear it's a tad... what was the word... ah, 'zesty', but most certainly quite delicious! Ah, but now it is late, and I must sadly depart. A good evening to you, Louise Francoise! We shall speak again tomorrow."

Louise bowed again briefly. "Of course! Good evening to you too, Henrietta. Until tomorrow." she said, watching quietly as the Princess swept from the room, Agnes, the 'Inquisitor', and the other maids following in her wake. Only after the door had closed behind them did Louise allow herself to take a few steps backward and collapse into the thick bed behind her with a tired sigh.

But despite everything, for the first time in days - perhaps even months - Louise finally felt some measure of peace.

* * *

Azatot cracked his knuckles and discarded the black robe at the edge of the lower courtyard, grinning as a somewhat plain-looking but fit woman of the Royal Musketeers retrieved it from the ground. "So you already got everything set up?" Azatot asked, summoning up his helmet once again and pulling it on, his armor having already regenerated from it's previous damage. His weapons were still missing, of course - most of them - but that would hardly stop a Churl, much less a Caitiff or a Ballic Dracon. Let alone both.

"Of course." Cardinal Mazarin replied, giving Azatot a cold glance. "It may have been quite some time since daedra have been summoned to this land, but we know how your kind thinks. Especially for Dremora. I took the liberty of having this arranged as soon as I learned of your arrival."

"Hah! For a priest, you sure know how to tempt a demon." Azatot replied, giving a pointed glance to one of the prettier Musketeers as they passed by. The woman did not even lift an eyebrow in response.

"I'm afraid you'll find that these girls have already been made aware of your true nature, daedra." the Cardinal said, harrumphing. "You won't be able to trick them so easily. And you of course know not to bother the help."

"Yeah, yeah." Azatot said, waving a hand dismissively and clenching his hands briefly, letting his talons dig briefly into his palm and coat the tips with his own blood before uncurling his hands again. "I know the deal. You scratch my back, I don't claw open yours. Just show me where the good times are."

* * *

"...and I'll repeat just one more time," the Palace Guardsman shouted, fixing the assorted ruffians before him with another glare, "_just_ to make sure you fools know the drill: use the weapons. _Don't_ use them on each other. Kill the man coming to challenge you, and you all get pardons and tickets for the fastest windship to Germania. No questions asked. Just stay out of Tristain, and as far as you're concerned we've never heard of you. Any questions? No? Good." the Guardsman turned and hurried from the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

The bandit leader chuckled darkly and tested the edge of his sword as he glanced toward his recently-freed underlings, then towards the pair of murderers eyeing each other across the room. "This'll be a cakewalk, just you watch, eh boys? Just no one get any funny ideas of settlin' scores between us just yet. I ain't about to let myself go back into the dungeons just 'cause you idiots couldn't wait until we're across the border to start shanking each other, awright?"

"Yeah, yeah, fuck you Marcus." one of the other former dungeon prisoners replied, running his hand across the blade of his axe. "We know the drill. Heh. Must admit I'm surprised that Her High-and-mighty-ness is letting some young buck play bloodsports in her dungeons. Didn't think the 'Flower of Tristain' had it in her."

"Probably some Germanian paramour. You know how those barbarians are." Marcus said, chuckling. "Need to beat something before they can get it up, you know. Guess ol' Henrietta's decided to start practicing for when she needs to spread her legs for that barbarian Kais-"

The door suddenly ripped free of it's hinges, flying into the room and crushing some hapless horse thief against the far wall. The rest of the two dozen criminals in the room turned, blinking at the shadowy figure in the doorway.

The demon stood silently examining them all for a long moment, the glowing red eyes of its helmet apparently pleased with what it saw. Then it grinned.

"IT'S AZATOT TIME, _MOTHERFUCKERS!_"

* * *

The Palace Guardsman had only a moment to struggle as the knife slid through his throat. Clutching futilely at both the wound and the hilt of his sword, trying to call out for help through the hand cupped tightly over his mouth, the old veteran could only slide slowly to the ground, bleeding out beside the body of his already-dead companion.

His killer glanced down at the two bodies at his feet - one a cooling corpse, the other soon to become one - and then turned away, stepping quietly over to the ramparts of the outer wall and leaning over briefly and whistling three times, at a pitch far too high for any human to hear.

The other four elven assassins clinging to the outer wall of the royal palace heard just fine, though, and were atop the ramparts in seconds. Regrouping and then quietly slipping into the closest guard post to slay the three men inside, the five shadowy killers infiltrated the upper courtyard and made their way into Tristania's royal palace unnoticed.

On their lives, the daedra summoner and her matron would both die tonight.

The Masters had commanded it be so.


End file.
